Nuances of Hormones
by Bittersweet Romanticide
Summary: Five drabbles inspired by Poe poems and all with the catalyst of hormones. AAML. Pokeshipping. Bikeshipping. Sakashipping. T for swearing and, well, hormones.


**Disclaimer: I'm not Tajiri **_**or **_**Poe! I own neither the poems nor the characters! Go ahead and sue me Poe. Sue me from beyond the grave. Do it.**

So, a few weeks ago I thought, "Hey! I have a big ass book of Poe! I should read that again!" So I did. Then I thought, "Hey! There's some good stuff in here! I could use that to inspire me!" So I wrote down the ones that did. Then I thought: "Let's tie it all together with hormones". So I did. And that's how this came about.

I know there's other stuff I have to work on, the RT epilogue, Canon Rape, review replies and…probably other stuff. If there's something you're after feel free to rant and ramble about it in the review or a PM. I've been busy, dragged with a bitter friend on vacation and other fun stuff, so I haven't had much of a chance. I made this to tide you over, and that's really it. It should be some mindless, fun entertainment, and I hope you enjoy!

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_(one)__  
O__, Times! O, Manners! It is my opinion  
That you are changing sadly your dominion--  
I mean the reign of manners hath long ceased,  
For men have none at all, or bad at least[…]  
"O, Tempora! O, Mores!"_

Manners dictate many things, how to act, what to say, when to say it, when to smile, when to cry, how to tend to a station and much more. They're timeless in the sense that they can evolve and change to what was looked upon once as disgusting and rude is now seen as harmless, joking, or even widely approved. This is all done to keep the peace, to settle disputes, and to make living with someone you hate and love all at once perfectly bearable.

This means, at the root of all manners, there are ways to keep the peace, whether shaking hands or execution, it's all done in the hopes that whoever is causing the disturbance will kindly shut the hell up so everyone else in the world can get on with their business. People honestly don't care _how _you shut the hell up. In fact, most will turn the other way to a good knee in the crotch or an insult so scathing the other will fall silent. It was due to this strong human emotion that Brock was sitting on the sidelines, almost hoping that Ash would say something evil but witty, or that Misty would land a good hit.

"You're such a _moron_!" And though there are worse, far worse words she could use, Misty's remark was by no means civil: "All you ever do is get us freaking lost in the freaking woods every freaking day! You can't read a map! Why don't you buy a freaking GPS?"

"Because I'm saving up to buy your stupid bike!" It was bad manners that Ash had borrowed said bike without asking, an act commonly referred to as stealing. It was worse manners to lie and say he was saving up money to pay her back, when in reality he was simply dirt poor. Well, dirt poor as in the only money he had once upon a time vanished as he poured it into a small game themed upgrade for his pokedex. Pride is never polite to say the least.

"You're not saving," she sneered, catching him in his lie. "You haven't won any battles in _forever_. That means you aren't earning any money! Ash, you stupid _moron_, you can't do anything right! We're going to be lost in these stupid woods forever!"

"So what if we are? At least I'll die happy knowing _you're _going with me! My only regret is that Brock has to go too!"

He snorted, rolling his eyes to the sky. "Great, now _I'm _killed off thanks to one of their stupid fights. I thought I was better than that. I can probably figure out the way by watching the stars or just following the path. If nothing else, all forests end. If I keep walking one way I should, theoretically, find my way out. I know what fruits and berries eat I can probably manage to trap something for meat once in a while. I'm sure I'd be set."

"_Ash_!" Misty squealed, and Brock looked back at the scene.

Poor Misty's face had gone the deepest shade of scarlet he had ever seen on the girl, though he hadn't known her that long and it could have been one of her typical blushes. He turned red as well, but because he was laughing rather than embarrassed. Ash, in all his prepubescent glory, had settled the argument by mooning the girl and stomping away to hide in the tent with an open can of baked beans.

"Br-Brock! Did you see what he did to me?" she stuttered, pointing to the tent he had gone to hide in.

He wiped tears from his eyes and grinned. "Yeah." He sighed. "That was pretty rude."

_(two)__  
Who hath seduced thee to this foul revolt  
From the pure well of Beauty undefiled?  
So banish form true wisdom to prefer  
So squalid wit to honorable rhyme?  
"To Margaret"_

Misty honestly never minded dressing up. In fact, she kind of liked it. It wasn't so much for looking good or attracting a boy, but how, when Daisy pulled that final line of mascara and she got to look at herself in the mirror she wasn't Misty. Her sisters, for the shows, never made her pretty Misty, or gorgeous Misty, but a mermaid or a Southern Belle or an alcoholic or whatever she was supposed to be for the night. It was thrilling to look in the mirror once in a while and be anyone but Misty.

Not that she didn't _like _being Misty. Every time she stepped out on the stage and had to plaster a big, fake, cheap smile on her face she couldn't help but wish she had hidden from her sisters, done anything to avoid the bright lights and fans she couldn't see but could hear screaming. Still, once she got into a dance or a monologue she fell into that easy rhythm of lying. That's what acting was, in the end, lying to a big group of people getting everyone to believe it. She was good at that. She had always been good at that.

But she always got nervous when her sisters, crazy as they were, decided it would be in her character's best interest to have a boyfriend. It was something she _could _act, if only because she was so insanely nervous that it was hard to act like she _wasn't _attracted to whoever they picked. And they always picked some good ones, some hot guy with a smile seductive enough to make her legs melt. Her sister would giggle as Misty shook his hand, then walked off to hide and blush in the closet and did her best to remember that they would only stage kiss, and he wasn't really interested and his hands wouldn't feel _that _good around her lower back as they swung across the dance floor.

Tonight, they boy was one of the hottest she had ever seen, not to mention he had brown eyes. She was _such _a sucker for brown eyes. Almost every dance was close and needed some amount of heat, and there were _three _stage kisses. _Three _times she had to pretend to kiss the hottest guy she had ever met, while playing a blonde haired bimbo (Daisy was quite the sucker for stereotypes, almost as badly as Misty was for brown eyes) all while her crush had dropped by with his two friends to watch her perform. Didn't stop her from forgetting everything the second she screamed out her first angry-girl breakup line.

And when the show had ended, Daisy pulled them all backstage and made them wait until the guests had thinned out and after the party started behind the stage and on it. They were surprised to see Misty already stripped of makeup and wig, now comfortably in her normal jeans and t-shirt kind of thing.

"You guys like the show?" she asked as they came by, twisting a pretzel under the chocolate fountain.

"That was awesome!" Dawn beamed. She rushed up next tot eh redhead, gawking at her face. It really did seem like there was someone different in front of her, but it _had _to be the same person. Ash had pointed her out on stage and pointed her out _back_stage. They had to be the same even though they looked and sounded and walked nothing alike. This was the reason Ash could go from thinking of her with a scowl to a smile. "Do you guys do this often?"

Misty shrugged and spoke around her mouthful of chocolate pretzel. "My sisters do. I usually try to stay out of it, but they generally manage to rope me in. It's a good way to earn some extra money."

"Oh, the gym isn't doing so hot?"

"The League takes practically all of it. Insanely high taxes, they call it taxes. They basically just leave you with what they guess is how much you need to live. Do you know how freaking _rich _they are? It's insane. Everyone's ticked about it and calling for change. There's supposed to be this big rally coming up and we're debating about going. The biggest problem is we've never had them before, and when they had them in Hoenn a few of them got really violent."

"Wow, do they do that in Hoenn?"

"Hoenn's a little more modern. They actually base theirs off percentages now, thanks to all the rallies and stuff."

"So-"

"I didn't like it," Ash said suddenly, pushing a piece of chocolate cake around his plate. "The play. I kinda hated it, actually."

Brock chuckled. "Why? Too much kissing for you?"

"_No_!" Ash shouted, though the blush on his face told a different story. "It wasn't the kissing! It was just weird because I knew it was Misty under all the makeup and the wig and stuff, but she didn't look or act or so do anything like you do. It was just _weird_. It was everything you're not supposed to be. You're supposed to be this angry tomboy and you turned into…you weren't you. I thought we come here to see _you_."

She cocked her head to the side, watching his blush. "Gees, Ash. I was only acting."

His blush darkened. "Right, well…so you're still you, right?"

"Yeah, Ash." She nodded slowly. "Only acting."

"So your sisters haven't brainwashed you?" He grinned shyly.

They all couldn't help but laugh at that.

_(three)__  
Thus, in discourse, the lovers whiled away  
The night that waned and waned and brought no day.  
They fell: for Heaven to them no hope imparts  
Who hear not the beating of their hearts.  
"Al Aaraaf__"_

I can't say I know everything, or even that I know a lot, especially about love. I mean, I'm only ten, after all. I don't know how love really feels or what it's like or how it changes you, but I like to think that it's a weird mixture or embarrassment and happiness that makes you stupid. At least you're happy though, and it you're happy it probably doesn't matter if you're stupid or not. I don't think it would. When I'm really happy, I think I get pretty stupid, but I don't really care at that point. No need to worry, right?

Yeah, so, now that you that I really, really don't know all that much about love and you won't get mad at me if I'm wrong, I think it's only right to say that it's _not _healthy to keep love bottled up inside. I'm guessing this based on the fact that you're not supposed to bottle up any emotions, right? If you do, they just blow up on you over things I didn't even realize a person could blow up about.

But they did. I know that Ash and Misty keep everything bottled up. Well, their feelings of _love _bottled up. I'm guessing love. Like I said, I don't really know. I just think they're in love so I have to base it on that. I think they're in love and it's pretty obvious that they don't show it. And 'cuz they kept it in it blew up. Over the color of his _socks_. They argued for three hours over the _color _of his _socks. _Alright, it probably wasn't three hours but it _felt _that long and it was still an argument over the colors of his _socks_. Who _does _that? That's insane, I'm sorry. I don't care if it's mean to call people insane, but _that _is crazy.

And it all comes from denial. Honestly, you could hold 'em at gunpoint and they _still _would say they're not even close friends. They don't want to acknowledge _friendship _half the time on the off chance something (pokémon or person) _might _assume more. Misty knows the kind of _underwear _he'd got and Ash can run to the store and buy her the right brand of _tampons_! And they say they aren't _friends_, do you believe that?

Yeah, but I still say it's dangerous to keep it bottled up. Ash and Misty…when you fight over the color of someone's socks, it's obviously wrong, something's wrong.

I can tell they like each other though. I think it's cute. Misty will watch Ash during the battle instead of the battle itself sometimes. Sometimes she'll get this slight blush while doing it. Ash steals her hair tie for fun, usually ends up in an argument, but he looks at her more when she's got her hair down. He's fascinated by it, though I think she looked fine with it down or up. They always sit next to each other, always trade food when they see something the other likes, laugh at inside jokes and all that kind of stuff. That, and they'll find any excuse to touch one another. Saw Ash walk right into her once, grab her shoulders, say sorry, and then slide his hands down her arms as he walked away. I almost _screamed_, I'm telling you.

And I bet they're screaming, because that's what it all comes down to. The screaming. The denial. It's simple, really. They're afraid to let go of what they have in case they lose it all. I vow to never be that stupid. I can see it ripping them up inside, see little Misty and little Ash jumping and screaming and demanding that _someone _make a first move. No one will though. They'll just be stuck with their own little piece of fail. You know, unless someone helps them out…

…No need to worry, right?

_(four)__  
[…]in her eyes  
I read, perhaps to carelessly--  
A mingled feeling with my own--  
The flush on her bright cheek, to me  
Seem'd to become a queenly throne  
Too well that I should let it be  
Light in the wilderness alone.  
"Tamerlane"_

I can't even remember how long it's been since the last time we were in the stupid forest, Viridian Forest, green forest, that's what it means. This is where I caught Pigeot and Caterpie. This is where I spent that first awkward, uncomfortable, angry night with Misty. Though we are closer so close I probably would swallow my pride every so often to admit she was a good friend it's still awkward. Really awkward. You know, sitting alone with my crush in the middle of nowhere and wondering if hand holding is actually fun awkward. Ran out of things to say five minutes ago awkward. Somebody shoot me awkward.

I'm gonna die. Right, because I hit puberty, like, three years ago and last year I really started noticing girls and _really _noticing Misty. Yeah, what a great friend I am. Here, Mist, let _me _hold the ladder. I promise I won't be standing below, looking up your pants because I'm a terrible person and can't help myself! Who _does _that? Looking up a friend's pants…I wouldn't look up Brock's pants. 'Cept Brock doesn't look like Misty and he's definitely not as tempting as her long legs and white thigh and blue under-dammit. I think swear words now. Can't say 'em. Tried once and Mom hit me so I won't say 'em out loud. But I can think them, because Mom doesn't know what I think…or who I think about.

But _why _do they make guys and girls like this? Why am I hardwired to like that soft skin and curves and feminine features and _Mew _I can't tell you how much I want to touch her! It's not _fair_! I don't want to like girls – 'specially Misty of all people.

"What are you thinking about?" she says, and I say "nothin'" even though I _am _thinking about something and I _am _thinking about how fast I would have to be to kiss her, grope her, and run and wait to die for being the worst person in the history or worst people.

"You know what sucks?" she asks, and I ask what and she says, "Having hormones really, really sucks."

"It's worse for me."

"Oh yeah?" she challenges. "How come?"

"Because boys have it worse than girls." That'll get her mad. That'll make her cheeks, all red and her eyes light up and her lips part like she's the sassy centerfold in a dirty magazine. _That's _what I'm going it for, because I'm a terrible person. Because that's all I ever want nowadays. And I just don't know what to do because I don't have anyone to talk to! Brock obviously has no experience with this, not with a friend like this. Can't talk to mom, she's a girl. Can't talk to Gary because, well, _duh_. I can't talk to Oak because I don't know him that well. I just have to suffer in silence.

"We get boobs."

Yup. Suffer in silence. "Things are growing on _me _too."

"I get growing pains."

"Who doesn't?"

"I get periods."

"At least you can plan out and _hide _your problem."

"They're irregular when you start."

"My problem is a _little _more irregular. Plus, you only get laughed at, _if _that. I'm mocked _and _yelled at for being a pervert, even _if _it's only because it's cold out."

"Well I…" She hesitated. "I think about sex _all _the time."

I snort. "Yeah, because guys _never _think about that."

She blushes. "Yeah but…you're a _guy. _You're _supposed _to. I mean, other girls…I'm pretty sure they don't think about it as much and you're not even allowed to _talk _to them about it. All I can think about it…is _sex _and how much of a _pervert _I am that _every_thing makes me think about it! Everything!"

"I know how you feel." I jump in. My mouth keeps running and won't shut up. There goes my suffer in silence plan. I'm going to definitely die now. She's going to kill me. She is going to _kill me dead._ "I have a friend, a _close _friend and all I can't think about lately is everything I want to do with her. It's really embarrassing and I feel bad about it because she's my _friend. _I should feel that way about a friend, right?"

Oh Mew, she's not talking. _Why _is she not talking? Shoot. She knows it's her. She knows and she's trying to figure out how to get away. Don't go, Misty, I'm not planning on doing any-

"I think that this is stupid. Why should we feel bad? It's…that's what teens are famous for, right? Sex. So, just because we're thinking about what teens always think about, shouldn't make it bad." She smirks and bumps me. "So, who's the lucky girl you can't keep your mental hands off of?"

I'm imagining tilting my head sideways and pressing my lips to hers. Her lips are cold from the night air, her startled gasp pulling icy air by my face, but there's warmth creeping through her slight parted lips. Unlike my usual fantasies, she's not pressing back. Also unlike my nightmares, she isn't pushing me away and slapping me. In fact, this feels insanely real.

Dammit. It _is _real. Back away. She's not saying anything. Dammit. Most. Awkward. Night. Ever.

_(five)  
__I' the pouts? Kiss her, Castiglione! kiss her,  
You dog! and make it up, I say, this minute!  
Di Broglio from "Politian"_

Ash had gotten us thrown out of the dance. I suppose, if you looked hard enough like I do, it's pretty obvious that it was his fault and his fault _only _and I'm not to blame. But, if you just look at the surface you could say that we provoked one another into a fight and _that _is how we wound up stumbling into that pretty ice sculpture and ruining the party for everyone and getting us kicked out. The part kept going without us anyway, so we didn't ruin it. _Ash _didn't ruin it, because, if you really looked at it, it was all Ash's fault.

I don't have the time to say _why _it was Ash's fault, but I have to complain to someone. Might as well be you. Daisy's probably going to call any minute. So if I have to leave you hanging…hey, you won't mind, will you? It's pretty boring, listening to someone's life when you don't even know them that well. It's got to be even more annoying when you're challenging the gym, but it's closed anyway, so you can't mind. I've cornered you and I'm not letting you go until I have to go. What's your name anyway? Never mind. Don't tell me. I don't care. Just listen to me talk for a while and then you can go do whatever it is you noobies do when you're alone.

Anyway, so Ash had just gotten us tossed out of the dance, and you don't know embarrassment until you've been thrown out of a dance. It's a terrible feeling, an embarrassment so crushing you want to crumple and fall and wait to die. Or, you know, once that fades away die of boredom. They didn't even kick us out like normal people, out the front door. They kicked us out on the balcony. The _balcony_! It was a huge balcony, don't get me wrong, but you really aren't supposed to kick people out onto balconies. What were we supposed to do on a balcony? Twiddle our thumbs?

Well, it was dimly lit, really romantic. There were little candles in a couple places and the outside lights were low. All that was lit up was the balcony and you had to look far in the distance to see any other light. It's like we were in our own little world, Brock, me and Ash. It was relaxing and calming and I just wanted to bask in the glow with an imaginary boy toy for a while. Y'know, someone tall dark and handsome? I pretended I was there with someone like that for a decent while and that was probably where the trouble started, when I started pretending, because I got carried away.

They played this slow romantic song. It was called _Unforgettable _by Nat King Cole. Have you heard it? Don't answer. I don't care. Just know that it's slow and romantic and perfect to dance to…even if you're slow dancing all by yourself. I did start slow dancing by myself with my imaginary boyfriend. I was _bored_. There wasn't anything else to do, and all Ash had with him was Pikachu. As useful as Pikachu was, it couldn't get us out of there and onto the ground. And charades got old real fast. It can only be cute for so long.

"What are you doing?" Ash giggled, watching me dance with my arms around my imaginary boyfriend.

I gave a little twirl, breaking off my humming to reply with a quick: "Dancing!" Then I went back to twirling and singing around my imaginary dance floor with my imaginary boyfriend. He had black hair and brown eyes and was kind of wild looking and…what? Yeah. It sorta looked like Ash. That's the _point _stupid. If you had half a brain you would have realized that. I'm pining over lost love here! It's a very sad story. But it's a happy story. It's…ugh, you'll see. Stop getting me off track. It's like you don't even want to _hear _this.

"But you're not dancing _with _anyone," he continued. "You're all alone."

"No I'm not. I'm with my imaginary boyfriend. He's simply unforgettable. _In every way. And forever more! That's how he'll stay!_" And I kept singing and dancing and swirling around the floor, thinking about my imaginary boyfriend all the while. I was actually having a lot of fun, silly as it was to dance alone like that. I probably sang a little too loud, but it settled to a hum as I kept going. It felt nice to be on the dance floor, nice pretending I was in a dress (even though I wasn't, it was my regular clothes because we were only passing through the place to begin with) with Ash swinging me around, even if we all knew it couldn't happen.

And then it sorta did.

He came over, really quiet, and tapped my shoulder. He made a nervous sounding sound and had a really awkward look on his face and asked, "Can I cut in?" I told him he could. Then he did. It wasn't a weird joke and he didn't chicken out and run away. He actually wrapped his arms around me (pitifully shyly and in all the wrong places) and we started a stumbling, pathetic, awkward dance. I'm normally a good dancer, but he made me nervous and clumsy so I wasn't any better than him.

I completely forgot Brock was there. All I could think about was my heart swelling because of his brown eyes. I'm such a _sucker _for brown eyes. It wasn't just the brown eyes though. He was all well built and manly and stuff. I don't know how it happened, since he still looks like a little girly boy when I see him, but he _felt _built. I just wanted to melt into his arms and kiss him and…well, _other _stuff. Mostly the other stuff. And the other stuff made me blush really bad.

Anyway, he asked me if it was more fun with a partner, and I told him it was and then, oh _then _he –

Shoot. Daisy's calling. Gotta go!

What? You want to hear the rest? Well, can't you _guess? _It's not that hard to figure out. What do you _think_ he did? Ugh. You're so stupid. Go read a sappy love poem or a romance novel. Pick up a book of poems, for Ho-Oh's sake! They can probably describe it better than I did. He _kissed _me. He kissed me because he's an idiot whose hormones finally caught up to him and made him _kiss _me. Those same hormones that…that make me want to go _way _further.

Stop laughing! Just…you just…go sober up! I don't care. Talking to you was stupid. Read some Poe and wait for death, that's all his stuff is good for anyway.

* * *

I'm done! I'm going to go A) answer old reviews B) write fanfiction C) write original fiction D) read Dickinson E) hope the driving school I'm forced to go to tomorrow explodes, harming nothing and no one but rendering it useless to the world.

Review if you'd like. I'll just turn my lights off and sit in the darkness, waiting for death to come soon...I really don't want to drive.


End file.
